


i'm awake, i'm awake, i'm awake

by dreadfulbeauties



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25327138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadfulbeauties/pseuds/dreadfulbeauties
Summary: Randolph wakes up after a night of getting drunk to find that he's said some things he almost would never have said were he sober.
Relationships: Randolph Carter/Richard Upton Pickman
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	i'm awake, i'm awake, i'm awake

Randolph blinks a few times to get the sleeping grit out of his eyes, vision adjusting to the soft sunlight tinting the room. Last nights memories are hard to discern in his still sleep-addled mind: He remembers having just the right amount of drinks — or maybe not, since perhaps Richard was telling him that that was enough — stumbling back to his dorm and mumbling words in the wrong order between fits of giggling, and… now he’s just woken up in bed with his pulse too loud in his ears.

Richard. It’s been a while since they first met at the university, hasn’t it? The first time Richard had dropped his books and Randolph had caught sight of the charcoal sketches scribbled on scrap paper that fluttered to the ground. And he’s been nursing _this_ towards Richard for quite a while, too — they have not yet crossed that gap between friends and something more, and Randolph wishes they could. Or rather, he wishes he had the courage to. He’s tried writing it all down in the form of a letter to Richard but that’s not really something you can put into words from pen to paper, is it? So he’s given up, deciding that he can at least think wishfully about Richard from a distance and not ruin what they have already. One friend is enough. Maybe Richard doesn’t feel the same way.

He rolls off the couch, nearly hitting his head on the floor.

“Careful, Randolph — you okay?”

Richard’s already perched at the table, a pencil in one hand and a mug of steaming coffee in the other. There is a sort of gleam to his eye that Richard cannot place, a sudden flicker in expression that he tries to hide when he brings the mug of coffee to his lips.

“I’m fine. Save for this damned headache.”

“I didn’t think you’d wake up this early, Richard.

“To be fair, the both of us know I have my fair share of sleeping p — Oh God, it’s a Monday, isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately.”

“And I got _drunk_ last night, and you had to take me back to our dorm.”

Richard shrugs. “I don’t see why your getting drunk is something to be ashamed of. You’ve seen _me_ when I’m intoxicated. We better eat quickly if we want to get to classes on time

Randolph’s stomach growls in protest. He stares up at the eggs and toast on the table, and instantly turns away. 

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water, then. And would you be alright with me packing some apples for you later, then? In case you end up hungry.”

“Yes, thank you. I think I can get myself some water.” He stumbles up from the couch to the sink, rubbing at his eyes and watching the water pour into his glass. Gulping down the lukewarm liquid, Randolph sighs. His headache is still there but the sharp pain that makes his eardrums rattle is beginning to fade. But that brief distraction does not last for long.

“By the way, did you tell me you loved me last night?”

Randolph spits out his water.

“I _what_?!”

Richard shrugs. “I could have misheard it. You were drunk, you fell into me and told me I had nice hair, then you promptly started drooling on me—”

“No, wait, go back to the part about me telling you I loved you.”

“Oh. Well, I was trying to get you to go to sleep. I’d walked you back from the bar to our dorm and I was about to leave you be so you could rest. Then you grabbed onto me — and let me tell you, you’ve got quite a firm grip! — and said that you didn’t want me to leave because you love me. You’d told me that I had nice hair before that.”

“Well, I don’t know why I said that when I was drunk because I _do_ love you!” Randolph blurts out. “I just wish I’d written it down in a proper letter form because—”

Richard stares at him wide-eyed over his mug of coffee. Slowly, Randolph sets his cup down on the counter and makes his way back to the couch.

“Oh.”

He finishes his coffee and then seats himself on the couch next to Randolph. He notices how the sun illuminates the light brown hair masquerading Richard’s face, notices the mole on one cheek and the way he never manages to tie his necktie quite right and it lies dangling between his half-opened shirt collar. Then:

“Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?”

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me?”

This is your chance, Randolph tells himself. This is your chance to turn your back on your friendship and either make it into something better or never look at Richard the same way again. You’re not known to be a liar, so just tell him what you really feel.

“I meant it. I really do love you. I just wish I’d told it to you in a way that was more romantic, like a letter.”

“Randolph.”

He takes one of Randolph’s hands and takes it close to his lips, pressing a kiss at his knuckles.

“I don’t care however it is you tell me you love me. What’s important is that you told me. I’ve been hoping to hear it from you for a long time now, and I’m glad that I have. Because I love you too.”

Randolph pulls his hand away to frame Richard’s face, leaning in close to leave a kiss on his lips. His lips are a little chapped and dry, the taste of freshly-brewed, bitter coffee still lingering in his mouth. There’s teeth clicking and noses bumping and glasses shifting out of place. But it’s his first kiss, and it’s with someone who wants it as much as he does — he knows so from the way Richard’s hands drift up to his shoulders to pull him closer, the way he closes his eyes.

He pulls away, heartbeat throbbing. It isn’t because of a headache anymore.

_Is there something more I can say? Can I really say anything more? The first “I-love-you” is always the hardest one to spit out, and I feel as though we’ll be hearing those words from each other far more often from now on._

“—We’re going to be late.”

Richard starts laughing, pulling Randolph into a hug and accidentally jabbing himself in the cheek with the sharp of edge of spectacles hanging askew.

“Ow.”

“You also ought to be careful, Richard.”

“No no, you’re right. We _are_ going to be late if we don’t hurry up. Come on, let’s put our dishes away and get our things for the day.”

And as Randolph gets up off the couch to take in dirty dishes, headache still there, he thinks about how much more they’ll have to talk about during the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> ...the image of a drunk randolph carter is a rather funny one, i will say that much :]
> 
> thanks for reading. comments are always appreciated. take care and stay safe


End file.
